


Try to Change | JoanFK

by simp_of_arc



Category: Clone High
Genre: F/M, Prom, a straight ship with rights, lmao yes this is named after the mother mother song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27731875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simp_of_arc/pseuds/simp_of_arc
Summary: Prom night.It's supposed to be the best night of your life.Right?
Relationships: Cleopatra & Abraham Lincoln (Clone High), Cleopatra/Abraham Lincoln (Clone High), JFK & Joan of Arc (Clone High), JFK/Joan of Arc (Clone High)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 100





	Try to Change | JoanFK

**Author's Note:**

> im v sorry for the abe slander in this one i promise i don't hate abe it was just for the purpose of this story

Feelings are weird. Feelings are complicated. They could catch me at my worst moment and make me the most vulnerable person in the universe. It sucked, to say the least. To say the most, well… it shattered me like an expensive glass figure that you’d purchase at a place like William Sanoma; the kind that you would inevitably break a week later and wonder why you spent all of your money on  _ that.  _

That description could describe exactly how I felt the morning after the prom, or… whatever that was. For everyone else, it was memorable in a good way. For me, it was memorable in some sort of way. Yes, good stuff happened, but the aftermath left me on a drifting island of uncertainty.

To sum it all up, I slept with this guy. He wasn’t just any guy, though, he was the most popular guy in school. Some would say the hottest, but I disagreed. That placement, at least in my book, would go to Abe. 

You see, since middle school, I thought this guy was the dumbest, most insensitive guy in the history of dumb insensitive guys. His name was JFK, and boy was I fucking wrong.

It started off as nothing more than a plan to make Abe jealous. Stupid Abe with his stupid girlfriend and my stupid feelings which wouldn’t go away. At first, going to prom with JFK seemed like the best idea ever. It seemed like the perfect act to fulfill my spiteful desires, because at that point, I was tired of waiting for something good to happen. So, if something good wasn’t going to happen, then why not just be a bitch?

But it turned out as something different. Much different. I had a complete breakdown at prom, changed out of the slutty-teen-beach-whore makeover Cleo gave me and sat outside. I didn’t expect anyone to show up, I expected to just cry alone for the rest of the night. But someone did; JFK to be more specific.

I remembered the whole exchange perfectly.

“You know, I used you, Kennedy. I used you to try to make Abe jealous,” I admitted, hanging my head low in shame. He didn’t react to my statement in any way, so I was only left with my own frustration, “AGGH, I’m such a GIRL!”

“Exactly,” JFK said finally, “You’re a real knockout Betty, Joan, and a better Betty… when you’re not fakin’ being a slutty whore.”

I lifted my head back up, “You mean… you like me, when… I’m just me…?”

He smiled, “Ring-a-ding-ding. That chowderhead Lincoln just can’t see you without some bozo makeover!” his stupid Bostonian accent was showing, “I tell ya, that guy’s head is so full of chowder, he should have a bread bowl for a beard!”

He started laughing his ass off like he just said the funniest thing in the world. My facial expression didn’t change, but hearing someone insult my crush who treated me like shit these last several weeks was more refreshing than I thought it would be. His laugh faded into an awkward chuckle before he stopped, looking defeated that I didn’t laugh at his joke also.

“What do you aim to get out of this?” I asked.

“Er, out of what?

“This. Being nice to me. Actually giving a shit about my feelings even though I’m just your arm candy. If you wanted to sleep with me, you could’ve just told me, y’know.”

“I’m not doing this to sleep with you, Betty,” he replied.

“Then  _ why _ ? Why are you doing this? You could’ve snatched Cleo back already in the time you took to comfort me.”

JFK hesitated with his next answer as if he was trying to pick out just the right words to say, “You’re different than Cleo, Joan. You, er, actually have a personality… the kind of personality that anyone would be lucky to have.”

I rolled my eyes, “‘You’re killin’ me, smalls.’”

“I’m serious! You’re smart, witty, modest, funny, and you actually know what the hell you’re talking about. You’re, er, pretty, too. And I er uh… love your style.”

“You barely even know me.”

“Maybe so, but I could already see that the giggly vapid slut wasn’t real. I’ve seen you before. The  _ real  _ you. I prefer the real you much more over… whatever that was.”

That was what broke me. Whatever was keeping my emotions in check suddenly burst and tears rushed like a downpour down my face. The humiliation from the ugly sobbing noises I was making only made me feel less in control.

“Hey, er, what’s wrong? Are you okay, was it something I said!?” JFK panicked. He rested his hand on my shoulder and gripped it tightly.

“N-no, it’s j-just,” I choked out a laugh through my tears, “I d-don’t think anyone has ever appreciated me this m-much before. N-not even Abe. Everybody has always chosen someone else over me. Every. Single. Fucking. Time.”

“FUCK Abe!” he shouted, exasperated. I winced at the sudden volume, “Abe isn’t even aware of how kickass you are, Betty. He spends all of his time obsessing over Cleo when he should be doing the same to you, instead. Don’t, er, go after someone who doesn’t appreciate you as you do to them, it always just goes to shit in the end.”

Our eyes locked as I lifted my head. He had the exact same face as a guy who went through this pain himself.

“Personal experience?” I asked.

“Personal experience.”

I smiled genuinely for the first time that night. It only caused more tears to trickle down my face. JFK smiled back to lift my spirits. We both let out a chuckle and turned our heads away from the other and stared off at the view ahead of us. There wasn’t much to see, but at least the dark streets of Exclamation! U.S.A. distracted me from the shitshow in my brain.

Almost involuntarily, my body slowly careened to the side and my head landed softly on JFK’s left shoulder. I felt his body flinch, then his shoulders relaxed. In reaction, he reached his arm across my back and clung to my right upper arm with his hand.

“Fuck you, Abe,” I whispered to myself, the raw pain still present. JFK could hear the hurt and anger in my voice.

“You tell ‘im, Joanie,” that response got another laugh out of me.

“Could I ask you something?” I said, my head still on his shoulder.

“Er uh… yeah, anything.”

“Are you actually a womanizer? Or, is that a facade, too?”

“I didn’t want to be, but I ended up being one. Was the only way to fit in with the ‘cool kids,’ y’know?” he responded.

“Objectifying women isn’t cool.”

“Yeah, well, I know that now.”

The conversation ended after that. There was nothing else I could think of to say, I just wanted to stay in this position forever. I felt so safe and, for the first time in my life, loved by someone other than my foster grandfather. Someone actually gave a shit about my feelings for once, and that someone was the last person in the entire goddamn world I would ever expect to do so.

My mind migrated back to Abe for a moment. After this revelation, I didn’t really see myself falling in love with him anymore. However, this didn’t make me feel any better. It just made me feel like I wasted months and months of my time investing my entire emotional well-being into someone who would only make it deteriorate. I never saw myself ever looking at Abe in a bad way, yet here I was. I knew he didn’t care, at least, not in the way that I wanted him to. He never did, and I was starting to become okay with that. 

The more I thought about this, the closer I drifted my body towards JFK. His hold on me was secure. I felt truly happy. Even if everything JFK said was meant in a platonic connotation, I still felt happy. I had someone who I felt… complete with, for once.

“Joan…?” JFK asked quietly.

“Hm?” I hummed. He let go of me and stood up.

“Wanna, er uh, get back in there?”

“What?”

“U-uhm, er, d-do you want to uhm…”

“C’mon, spill it,”

JFK stopped himself before continuing onto the next sentence, “Would you like to dance with me?”

My eyes felt like they grew ten times their size. I simply stared at JFK with his arm outstretched towards me like he wanted me to take his hand. I had no idea what to say, and I absolutely was  _ not  _ going to burst out crying again.

“Yes,” I whispered, barely able to produce the word. 

I stood up and linked my arm with his. JFK grinned at me again as we walked back into the Meat Locker. It was just the same as before, except Abe and Cleo were nowhere to be seen. That was probably for the best. 

He pulled me onto the dance floor with everybody else and rested his hands on my waist while I wrapped my arms around his neck. A slow song came on a moment later. We looked at each other bashfully before beginning to dance to the song. It was… nice. So, so, nice.

“Fuck, did I ruin my eyeliner?” I asked.

“Yeah, you did a little, but that’s okay. Doesn’t ruin your pretty face in the slightest,” he said.

“Oh, JFK, you’re so  _ funny, _ ” I said sarcastically.

“What!? I’m just being honest!”

“Simp.”

“And? What are you, er, going to do about it?”

I responded with a chuckle as I leaned my head into his chest. I embraced him. He immediately returned the action. It was a hug I was seriously deprived of.

“Thank you. For this. For everything,” I mumbled.

“Hey, anything for you,” he said. 

Just like that, I was smiling like an idiot again.

And, well, you probably know the rest of what happened.

**Author's Note:**

> hi yes i know this isn't the best writing but it was the best i could do in this situation.
> 
> i really hope whoever read this enjoyed it though
> 
> thank you for clicking on this <3


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